It’s almost the new year, and I’m wondering… are you tired?
Two years ago, I was so exhausted from my over-committed, hurried life that I made a new year’s resolution to quit everything. If you’d like proof of my commitment to quit, look no further than this blog, which has not been updated in…two years. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
There’s a lot of talk recently about burnout. Just this past fall alone, multiple books have been published on the topic. Turns out, I’m not the only person who hit a place of deep dissatisfaction with a life that felt too full, too busy, and too loud.
It was fall of 2017 when I began wrestling with the idea that something in my life needed to change. I was always moving, but constantly restless. Unable to put my phone down. Irritable, all the time. I wasn’t actually disappointed in my life, but more and more often I was acting so. It felt as if my hard work hadn’t paid off in the ways I wanted. I remember seeing a counselor at one point who noted that I had lots of good things I valued, but I seemed to be holding them all equally. Such a posture was a recipe for disaster. What was I willing to downgrade? Get rid of? The short answer was… nothing.
And so the balancing act continued. Some of the stress was unavoidable—raising three young children is crazy making at times— but much of this pain felt self-inflicted. We desperately wanted to buy a home, and more than anything I wanted to make a name for myself in the female Christian writer’s market. In an effort to chase my big dreams, I’d convinced myself not only of my own importance, but the belief that only I could make it all happen. I took on too much work, staying up late every night to manage the rapidly growing podcast I hosted, and diving deep into the purchase of healthy vending machines that we hoped would become semi-passive income towards a future mortgage. If my writing work wasn’t yet profitable enough, I could hustle in other ways.
The thing is, much of what I was investing my time in were good things. I worked hard to create podcast episodes around topics that mattered, for women in the trenches of motherhood, interviewing people like Jen Hatmaker and Ann Voskamp. We saw our audience grow exponentially and while the work wasn’t always glamorous, I loved what I was doing. I just didn’t love the person I was becoming. The late nights, squeezing editing and small business management into every tiny margin I could find, was turning me into a person whose mind never stopped planning, thinking, and pushing harder. One day, I made a scary realization that the noise of my life—the texts, the emails, the Voxer messages, the podcast episodes, the children, the friends with strong opinions—they were all so very loud that I couldn’t hear God’s voice anymore. Even worse, I discovered that my own inner-voice was so dominant, so critical, that I couldn’t distinguish God’s voice from my own either. Did He even like how I was spending my time? Did He even want any of these commitments to begin with?
Over the course of several weeks, the Holy Spirit began impressing on me the phrase be still. Psalms 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” At face value, this seems like a call to slow down, and perhaps spend a little more time reading the Bible. But upon study, I learned that being still actually means to wake up to God’s undeniable ability to do what only He can do. Being still means to cease our striving and let go.
A few weeks after my encounter with Psalm 46:10, I made the excruciating decision to walk away from the podcast I’d worked so hard to help build. Saying goodbye to the position not only meant giving up something I truly enjoyed creating, but also access to a platform that could lead to future work in a competitive writing and speaking industry. I didn’t know when or if I’d go back to being a digital creator, but I knew with certainty that I was supposed to be home full-time with my kids for the foreseeable future.
Soon after, we sold our small business. While the decision was ultimately ours to make, this too felt surprising. It was not as if God has asked me walk away from everything all at once, but once I began releasing the holds on my life, it felt easier to let go of even more. I suspended my Facebook and Instagram accounts and set up some simple rules for myself around technology use. I quit the volunteer commitments that I’d said yes to out of obligation and started sleeping more instead. I tried to spend time in the Word with greater frequency, seeking God’s direction through Scripture. I studied the Enneagram, and learned how my perfectionist inner-critic made it difficult to accept Christ’s grace in my life. Slowly, as the noise and busyness decreased, so did the heavy weights I’d been carrying. When our landlord told us he was selling our condo and we’d need to vacate, we went to God with the decision instead of panicking. With God’s leading, and the change in perspective he’d already been molding, we decided to give up on the idea of owning a single family home and purchase a townhouse instead— a gift I’ll never stop thanking God for. And He provided in other ways too like giving me opportunities to write and speak for my local church body instead of on the Internet. In just under a year’s time, life felt dramatically healthier. This would be a nice way to end my story of transformation.
But almost one year to the day of deciding to quit the insanity I’d be carrying, our family made a terrible discovery. On October 15, 2018, my six-year old, Owen, received a kidney cancer diagnosis. Overnight, our world flipped over with chemotherapy, surgeries and radiation promising to take over the months ahead. Life had suddenly become more complicated and terrifying, but even more simple and slow. Friends swooped in to help with meals and childcare help, and I let go of any and all commitments including church on Sundays. With a compromised immune system, we were forced to stay very close to home. Quite literally, the only recurring items left on my calendar were a weekly chemo infusion and doctor appointments.
One morning, a few weeks after Owen’s diagnosis, I received two separate emails from friends that had gone through their own terrible trials. Both offered the same verse: “The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still.” (Exodus 14:14)
There it was, again, the reminder from God to stop at my own efforts for control. Amidst the most horrible news I’d ever received, God was stepping in again with the same lesson He’d been instilling for a full year: BE STILL. And in this reminder was something even greater. He saw me in my pain. For so many years I’d been begging God to speak loudly, lead with force, and show me how to accomplish my dreams. What he continues to teach me is that he speaks softly, leads with love, and has a better way than I do…even when it hurts.
People have different theologies when it comes to God’s involvement with pain and suffering. This is a topic I’ve had to wrestle with many times in the last ten years. While I don’t believe God caused Owen’s cancer, He knew it was going to happen. Cancer is one of many signs that we live in a broken world that God is in the business of restoring. Over this last year I’m reminded that I don’t always understand God’s ways or his timing, but in my own life his restoration process began long before I knew I needed healing. For a full year leading up to my Owen’s cancer diagnosis, God lovingly stepped in to begin stripping me from the shackles of achievement and hustle so that He could prepare me for a battle I didn’t even know was coming. In the last few months since treatment ended, He’s also lovingly come alongside me to continue the healing process through times of silence and solitude, intensive counseling and a weekly spiritual formation group at our church. The transformative work of Jesus, I’m realizing, is never over. What a relief.
Now I’m going to ask the same question I started with: It’s almost the new year, and I’m wondering, are you tired? Not just physically tired, but is your soul tired? Is there a gnawing feeling of discontentment that none of your own efforts have filled so far? Are you so used to racing that perhaps now is the first time you’re realizing that what you’re really looking for is a rest station instead of the all-consuming finish line?
Before you start filling out your goal setting sheets and dreaming about financial markers, flatter abs, or even less technology use—what would it look like to approach the throne of God with surrender instead? Perhaps, if you’re tired, what would it look like to let go of some goals rather than set new ones? What would it look like to ask God to show you how he’s already been speaking in your life, but maybe you’ve been too busy to hear?
Proverbs 16:9 says: “In their hearts, humans plan their course but the Lord determines their steps.” As we approach 2020, I’ve started paying attention again to some of the dreams that God has slowly been growing in me over the last two quiet years. There are rhythms we’ve established that I’d like to hold onto this year. There are character habits I’m sensing God would like to change in me. There is even one big wild and crazy idea I’m hoping He’ll release me to pursue. But, I return to what I know, and it is this: God plans our course. He knows the days of life, the health of our children, the scan results, the tragedies and the triumphs, the leases that will fall apart, the surprising promotions, and everything in between.
Last year, I didn’t set a single goal besides being present for my family. As I reflect on what we’ve gone through the last 12 months (it was both the hardest and best year of my life!) I can’t help but enter this year with expectancy for how God might lead us again, and how I might get to simply follow.
Lord Jesus, shape me to be more like you. Shape my ways to your own. Prepare me, then surprise me, then hold me closer so I can hear your still small voice.
If you’ve resonated with a desire for pursuing a simpler life this year, may I offer some resources?
Articles:
Learning to Listen to Your Life (with a great exercise at the end!)
I don’t know how I used to do it
Why I’m Having an Identity Crisis
Books:
The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer
Sacred Rhythms: Arranging Our Lives for Spiritual Transformation by Ruth Haley Barton (and, for people in ministry, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership)
The Listening Life: Embracing Attentiveness in a World of Distraction by Adam McHugh
God’s Many Voices: Learning to Listen. Expectant to Hear by Liz Ditty
The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman
Podcasts/sermons:
Keep Your Rest on The Next Right Thing
Which Type of Rest Do You Need on the Don’t Mom Alone Podcast
All That’s In Your Heart, Jesus Culture
Power to Do the Works of God on the Renovare podcast
The Sources of our Exhaustion and Relinquishing False Self Patterns on Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership podcast
Rebekah Lyons + Rhythms of Renewal on That Sounds Fun podcast (Haven’t yet read Rebecca’s new book, Rhythms of Renewal, but based on her interviews I would recommend as a great read for 2020)
Developing a Rule of Life, John Mark Comer at Bridgetown Church
Photo by Nienke Broeksema on Unsplash